


Mea Maxima Culpa

by starbacchu



Category: South Park
Genre: Background Stan Marsh/Wendy Testaburger, F/M, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24728992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starbacchu/pseuds/starbacchu
Summary: As Kyle pulled the phone away from his ear, he felt a wave of disgust crash over him; disgust with himself for feeling this way, for feeling Stan’s absence like a severed limb, for letting himself getting dragged to the brink of implosion every single time.He was tired of this song and dance, of letting himself think, this is it, this is the last time, I have a chance, then crying himself to sleep after every phone call. He was done.Or, Kyle is tired of wanting someone who would never see him as a person.
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh, Stan Marsh/Wendy Testaburger
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	Mea Maxima Culpa

**Author's Note:**

> this is just really edgy and i didnt proofread it, so mazeltov

The ringing was getting annoying.

Kyle glared at his phone, which just kept on vibrating, unaware of the glare leveled at it. It made him feel numb and rubbery at the same time. He knew Stan was the one calling, and he’d taken one look at the caller ID and flung his phone across the room and it had landed neatly on his nightstand. That was seven minutes ago. But Stan wasn’t deterred, no, he needed his sounding board to pour out more unconditional sympathy for him, to let him vent about his problems. That was the only reason he ever called these days, otherwise, it’ll been days or even weeks before he’d hear from Stan again.

But the goddamn ringing went on and Kyle couldn’t take it anymore. He let out a heavy sigh and removed his arm from the white-knuckled grip he’d unknowingly trapped it in since the ringing started, and pried each individual fingernail out of his skin, slowly and painstakingly; the deep crescent-shaped marks that had resulted began to stream rivets of blood that promptly soaked into the fabric of his sweater, another set of scars to add to his collection.

He glanced down at the wound and promptly noted with a hint of disbelief that he didn’t feel it at all. He picked up the phone, still fucking ringing, in his trembling hand. He heart was racing, of course it was, and he hated himself a bit more. For letting Stan make him feel this way, for falling in love with someone who’d never see him as a person. His bloody fingers smudged on his phone.

“Hello?” His own voice sounded muffled and foreign to him, like someone else was making a phone call underwater and he was simply observing them. The telltale sobs and whimpers that bellied the reason for the phone call were audible from the other line, and Kyle felt the blood run down his arm. “She broke up with me Kyle”, came Stan’s drunken, slurred voice. “She’s gone! She’s gone Kyle. I don’t know what to do” He continued to sob over the phone.

As Kyle pulled the phone away from his ear, he felt a wave of disgust crash over him; disgust with himself for feeling this way, for feeling Stan’s absence like a severed limb, for letting himself getting dragged to the brink of implosion every single time. He was tired of this song and dance, of letting himself think, this is it, this is the last time, I have a chance, then crying himself to sleep after every phone call. He was done.

“You know what?” He takes a deep breath and everything becomes clear, the edges of his perception losing their dreamlike blur and become as sharp as ice, the stinging of his arm receding along with the last shred of hope of saving their friendship that he held unto. “Fuck you Stan. Just fuck you- no let me finish”. He all but growled as Stan began to sputter incoherent protests.

“Do you think it’s fair? Do you honestly think that what you’re doing to me is okay? You never call me, never! Unless it’s to bitch about how Wendy broke up with you, which is fucking bullshit- you get back together in a week tops, and then you continue to act like I don’t fucking exist! You’re a horrible, selfish person if you think that all I’m good for is aimless venting after thirteen fucking years of friendship!” Kyle inhaled again shakily and let out a sob that he didn’t know he was holding in, his arm begin to sting again as tears fell into the cuts.

“I’m done Stan. I’m fucking done. Find another ‘Super Best Friend’ to hang out and care about with when it’s convenient to you, because I’m sure as hell not him”.

Then there was silence. Kyle’s small frame was wracked with sobs, as he hunched over the phone, his hand over his mouth to keep them from leaving his body. Stan didn’t seem to be reacting on the other line, and just as Kyle thought Stan was going to say something, anything, he hung up.

That was it. No explanation, no apologies, no attempt to justify or argue his way out of the situation, no fucking excuses which he wouldn’t have even accepted, nothing. Stan just moved on to the next person unfortunate enough to give him sympathy.

And with that realization, Kyle let the tears he was holding back consume him. He tossed the goddamn fucking phone at his wall and crumpled to the ground, in a pathetically weeping, wailing heap.

He let himself become undone and the blood slid down to his carpet, dripping steadily, then he felt it all.

**Author's Note:**

> did you catch the symbolism? i can't write it for shit lmao but i was experimenting


End file.
